


Frosted Windows

by quartetship



Series: Swim Trunks [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:06:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Whistling wind. Fireplace crackling. The sound of sleepy, peaceful breathing in the quiet of a relaxed winter evening.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frosted Windows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [airblends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/airblends/gifts).



> The third installment in the Swim Trunks series, specially tailored for winter. :)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy, but first, here are a few notes:
> 
> This is technically day three of my NSFW challenge, so the prompt was 'first time'. I hope I've done a decent job capturing the wavering confidence of two people about to enjoy that experience together. Please note also that the characters portrayed here are 18; I do not write underage sex, even for high school aus. haha
> 
> This installment is also a gift for Lonnie, who inspired me to work on it in the first place! Happy belated birthday, love!
> 
> \--

_ Whistling wind. Fireplace crackling. The sound of sleepy, peaceful breathing in the quiet of a relaxed winter evening. _

Snow wasn't an extremely common occurrence in the small southern town where Jean had grown up, but something he had quickly learned as a child was that when it  _ did _ snow, it shut down everything. Businesses, schools, entire streets would be covered and lie still under the glistening blanket of white. Snow days were always the best days, as long as he had something - or someone - to keep him from getting bored. And though his parents had gone on a day trip to visit his aunt before the holiday rush, he was not alone when the snow started falling silent sheets one late December evening.  
  
When the phone rang, he peeled himself from his spot on the couch, where he'd been comfortably sprawled on top of Marco. There was no need to turn down the tv volume; the Harry Potter marathon had mostly been something for them to glance at on the occasions when they weren't too busy kissing to breathe. Jean grinned sheepishly over his shoulder at Marco, even as his mother's voice came across the other end of the line.  
  
"Hey mom."  
  
"Hi, sweetie. Is Marco still there?"  
  
"Uh, yeah - why?"  
  
His mother sighed into the receiver. "Well, it looks like the snow is gonna keep us here at aunt Tricia's for another night at least. Your dad says he can't even get the car out of the garage right now. Is it snowing there, too?"  
  
Jean glanced out the window. "Uh, yeah, actually. It's comin' down pretty hard."  
  
"Alright, well why don't you see if Marco's parents are alright with him staying there with you tonight? There should be a frozen pizza in the freezer, and plenty of chips and drinks. We can take him home once we get back tomorrow afternoon."  
  
Jean tried to keep his sudden smile at bay, hoping his mother wouldn't hear it in his voice. "Yeah, sounds great, mom. Don't, uh... don't rush home tomorrow or anything. Drive safe; we'll be fine here."  
  
"I know you will, dear. Goodnight. Stay warm, alright?"  
  
"Will do. G'night, mom."  
  
He let the phone drop back into the charging base and stretched for a moment, shaking out the stiffness of several hours of lying in the same position. Marco watched him fondly, wriggling into a seated position and patting the couch as Jean padded back over to him.  
  
"Everything okay?" He asked, running a hand lazily down Jean's back. Jean leaned into his touch and nodded.  
  
"More than. Mom and dad aren't gonna be back 'til tomorrow. Told me to call your folks   
and see if you can crash for the night."  
  
"What, you need a babysitter?" Marco teased. Jean bumped their hips together sharply, eyes narrowed.   
  
"You'd be a shit one, anyway. Keep me up way past my bedtime." He snaked arms over Marco's shoulders, around his neck to tug them closer.   
  
"Probably," Marco grinned, biting his tongue as he did. "Lemme call my parents, alright?"  
  
Jean didn't move his arms, dropping his face to mouth along Marco's neck instead. "As if they're gonna care."  
  
"Still gotta call 'em," Marco insisted, breathing a little unsteady. "I  _ 'live under their roof', _ remember?"   
  
"Yeah, I hear your mom reminding you every time we're late."  
  
"At least she doesn't know  _ why _ we're late," Marco reminded him, squeezing his thigh; he let Jean linger for another moment, before prodding him away to stand.  
  
"Point," Jean laughed, reaching a foot out to prod at Marco's butt as he made his way over to the table where the phone rested. "So - hungry?"  
  
\--  
  
Marco's parents approved his overnight stay without pause, and Jean bit back a grin at the thought of sharing his bed with Marco that evening. Pizza in the oven, he leaned back against the stove door, still smiling. Marco sidled up beside him, looking back and forth between the kitchen table and counter, like he was trying to decide where to perch. Jean decided for him, pulling Marco around in front of him instead, grinning when Marco dropped his hands to press against the oven door on either side of Jean's hips. Pressing their bodies together, Marco ground forward, just enough to have Jean arching up into him. His mind swam with memories of pool water lapping their bodies, the steamy heat of the pool shed where they'd first done this; the winter chill outside melted from his thoughts as Marco melted against him. No matter how many times they did this, or much farther they'd gone together since, it always drove Jean crazy, and Marco  _ knew _ it.   
  
Jean groaned, the rumbling sound low in his throat as he teased the tops of Marco's hips with the tips of his fingers. He craned his neck to kiss him, but Marco was gone after only a brief peck, dropping to his knees with a devilish grin. Jean swallowed a gasp as Marco popped the buttons and zipper of his jeans, looking to him for permission before pushing them down. He nodded frantically, and Marco wriggled the pants away without a word.   
  
Already half hard just from the sight of Marco knelt in front of him, Jean hooked fingers into the waistband of his boxers to pull them away as well, but Marco reached up and caught his wrist, holding it firmly in place. He glanced up at Jean and bit his lip, not bothering to stifle his smirk before he dropped his face to mouth along Jean's clothed erection. Jean let his head roll back, his free hand coming up to twist through Marco's hair. Marco squeezed his wrist, pulling his attention downward again, and Jean couldn't hold back a ragged moan.   
  
Marco dragged his lips and tongue over Jean's hardness, now straining against the soaked fabric of his shorts under Marco's mouth. He slid his teeth over him gently, humming a quiet moan against him when Jean hissed at the contact. Just when Jean began to think he was going to have to beg for more, Marco released his hand, letting him push his dampened shorts to the floor with his pants. He sighed at the feeling of air against flushed skin; Marco's matching, accomplished sigh was not lost on him.   
  
Fingers were wrapped around him before he could do much more than breathe again, circling tight around his dick and stroking him with a need that matched his own. Marco was watching him, watching the way his face twisted, the pleasure written across his features. Occasionally he would drop his eyes to the task in front of him, staring at Jean's cock, at the way Jean was already dripping for him. But he always returned his gaze to Jean's face, dark eyes heavy with lust and drinking in the reactions he was pulling out of him.  
  
Jean tried to focus on not focusing, tried not to think about how gorgeous Marco was, how beautiful he looked when he was eager like this, how much he  _ loved _ him.   
  
He loved him.   
  
He'd figured it out a few weeks before, but hadn't exactly figured out how to  _ say _ it, especially when they didn't even really go on dates or do 'boyfriend' things. He didn't know if Marco felt the same way, and the thought of mentioning it, only to have the conversation spiral into awkwardness was one that scared Jean out of bringing it up at all. But every time they were together, every time they spoke, every time he even  _ thought _ about Marco, his face burned and his chest swelled, with sappy, mushy feelings spilling out everywhere as he desperately tried to hide the mess they were making. He needed to say it - he was going to have to eventually, or risk cracking under the weight of it. But he didn't think  _ then,  _ with Marco kneeling in front of him, pumping his dick was the best time. And then it didn't matter, because Marco slid his thumb through the slickness dripping down Jean's length and made a show of smearing it across his bottom lip, and Jean's mind went blank for every thought except that image.  
  
_ "Shit, babe..." _ He stammered, blinking down at a wildly grinning Marco and trying to remember how to breathe. He wasn't sure if it was the way Marco looked or the way his hands felt or just the heat of the oven behind him that was causing him to sweat, but it might have been a combination. He swallowed thickly and stuttered a question before things could go any further, further rob him of coherent thought. "Y-you wanna m-move this elsewhere?"  
  
Marco shrugged and slid his thumb over Jean's cock again, biting back a teasing grin at the way it made Jean jump. "If you wanna."  
  
Gathering what little cool he had left, Jean cleared his throat and tried to sound half as alluring as Marco effortlessly looked. "I just... thought my bed sounded kinda nice."  
  
Marco nodded and let his head fall softly against Jean's thigh, pressing a kiss there before looking back up at him. "I'm inclined to agree."  
  
Jean held hands out, palms up for Marco to hook his own into and shuffle to his feet. Marco made a whiny little pouting sound when Jean tugged his shorts and pants back up, but Jean just rolled his eyes and checked the time on the pizza. "Ten minutes, okay?" he smirked, smiling wider when Marco whined again. "We can't burn the house down or my parents will never leave us home alone together again."  
  
"Can't have that," Marco sighed, though he was grinning again. He hopped up onto the counter to wait, and Jean wormed his way in between his legs, wrapping them around his waist as he stood in front of Marco, kissing him for nearly the entire ten remaining minutes.  
  
_ Fifteen  _ minutes later, they had two very hot plates of food in hand, and headed to Jean's bedroom to eat. Jean's room was comfortable and secluded at the back of his family's long hallway, but it was also cold in the harsh chill of winter. His faulty window rattled in the frigid wind, barely keeping it out, and frost was beginning to cling to even the inside of the glass. All the more reason to burrow in blankets together, they reasoned. Though clothing was decidedly  _ less _ important.   
  
Marco had a habit of stealing Jean's pepperonis, and Jean usually repaid him by smearing marinara sauce on whatever part of his face was within reach while he did it. But that night, he let Marco swipe them, without retaliation, even as Marco made a show of eating them. Jean was too lost, wading through thoughts of how much he  _ adored _ the beautiful boy  sitting next to him - too much to even function properly most days. Marco made him feel so happy, so content, so safe, and if that wasn't love, then Jean didn't understand what was. But he bit his tongue on that subject again, opting for one that skirted its border instead.  
  
"So, I've... been thinking."  
  
"Sounds dangerous," Marco chuckled. Jean glared back at him.  
  
"Alright, dick."  
  
Marco's voice softened, laced with the flowery edge it usually had when he was trying to placate Jean. "What've you been thinkin' about, babe?"  
  
"I, uh..." Jean stammered, not actually having thought much further than to open his mouth, and the words just tumbled out, unchecked. "I kinda want to - could we uh, maybe...  _ Do you wanna have sex?" _   
  
Marco's eyes went wide for a moment. "Oh. Um, well--"  
  
"I didn't mean - it wasn't supposed to come out like that." Jean tried to backpedal, to make it sound like his mind wasn't on a single track, despite the fact that at that moment, it very clearly was. "I've just been thinking about it a lot lately, and just... didn't know if you might wanna try. Sometime."  
  
"I can't really say it's something I  _ haven't _ thought about, too." Marco tightened the blankets around his shoulders, fidgeting under them. It was a strange contrast to the confidence he'd been all but  _ dripping _ not an hour before. Still, his words stoked the flame growing in Jean's chest.  
  
"S'at so?" He grinned. He prodded Marco's bent knee with his own. "Good thoughts?"  
  
Marco sat his half empty plate aside on Jean's floor, freeing up space to stretch his legs out to nearly hook around Jean's still-bent knees. "You and me, pressed up against each other so close we're literally inside each other? The way you look when you're losing it, the way your skin tastes when you're sweating, the way you sound when I know I'm the only one you're talkin' to? Yeah. Pretty good thoughts."  
  
Hearing all of that from Marco's mouth wiped Jean's mind for a long moment, as he scrambled to memorize every syllable for  _ future reference. _ He wanted to tell him how weak Marco made him, how dizzy and distracted and  _ perfect _ he made him feel, and how surprised he was that Marco was even  _ real, _ let alone  _ his _ to do these things with. All he managed was a choked whisper of,  _ "Damn, babe." _   
  
"W-what I mean is, I obviously want to. I just... never have." The confidence in Marco's voice started to waver again, and he pulled his legs back toward his own chest. Jean clasped hands over his knees and rubbed circles there.   
  
"With anyone?"  
  
"No," Marco said honestly. "Just've... done other stuff. You have, though - right?"  
  
Jean shrugged one shoulder, remembering his tremendously lackluster previous sexual encounters with a grimace."With a chick, yeah."  
  
"I mean... still," Marco mumbled, wringing his hands. "You know what you're doing."  
  
"Kinda," Jean laughed. "That's not a reason for you to be nervous or anything though, babe. All I really wanna know how to do is you."  
  
Marco snorted. "Very romantic, Jean."  
  
"Shut up. I mean it. I don't know much more than you do, but I... wanna do that with you. Because I... want you."  
  
The smoldering glint in Marco's eyes returned as he leaned in between them to whisper, "Want you too, baby."  
  
That one little letter, that upturned sound that changed the whole meaning of the word made Jean shiver. Marco only called him that in the heat of things, when all thoughts of being 'too sweet' with each other were abandoned. Jean loved the sound of it, but that was just another thing on a growing list of things he never said outright. Mostly because hearing Marco whisper the word  _ 'baby'  _ again in his ear only fanned the flame in his chest that burned to put his feelings into words. He settled for looking back at Marco affectionately, fingers gently scratching through dark hair as he shouted in his mind, _ I love you. _   
  
After another slow, lingering kiss, Jean decided to push his luck, just a little, unable to think of anything other than how good Marco looked, smelled, tasted.  
  
"Do you wanna -  _ tonight?" _ He peered up at Marco, who was settling in his lap, as breathless as Jean was as he nodded quickly in response.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, just - do you  _ have _ anything? Like condoms and stuff?"   
  
"I have some stuff in my drawer over there. In the back, behind the little wood piece." Marco slid to his feet from the bed, following Jean's instructions and digging through the dresser drawer. He pulled out a package of condoms, completely unopened, and a bottle of lube that was... considerably  _ less _ pristine. He eyed Jean with a smirk and earned an impish grin in return. "I'm pretty boss at hiding shit from my mom."  
  
Marco laughed. "Apparently." He tossed the bottle and the box at Jean, clapping dramatically when Jean managed to catch them. Jean reached out and grabbed him by the leg, dragging him back into bed and peppering him with pinches and nibbling little bites until Marco was a giggling mess. He stopped long enough to let him catch his breath, smoothing a hand down his side and over his hips as he turned the conversation back to the matter at hand.  
  
"If you wanna stop, just tell me. Any time, okay?"  
  
Marco nodded, curling in on himself slightly as he nuzzled his face into Jean's chest. "Okay, yeah. Um... do you wanna... be on top?"  
  
Jean blinked back at him, having momentarily forgotten that was even a question that had to be asked. "Well, I mean - what do  _ you _ want?"  
  
"I kinda want to be on the bottom. I... I usually imagine it that way." Jean could feel Marco withdrawing more, obviously embarrassed, and despite the fact that Jean's heart was hammering at the thought of Marco  _ imagining Jean fucking him, _ he made a fierce effort to show no signs of surprise. Marco relaxed a little more against him and mumbled, "And you've done this before, so I... trust you."  
  
"Okay. Aright, yeah. Just - talk to me, okay? Tell me what's good."  
  
Marco looked up at him, shyness slipping away again. "I'm sure I will."  
  
They lay together that way - bracing themselves and each other with all the feigned assurance they could muster, confidence ebbing and flowing like a tide - for another few moments, before Marco pulled away and sat up on his knees. Jean followed his lead and settled beside him, arms around Marco's waist as Marco pressed backward against him.   
  
"I'll have to stretch you a little bit before we can... y'know." Jean mumbled, face burning. Marco bit his lip and nodded.  
  
"Like... you're gonna use your fingers?"   
  
"If that's okay," Jean breathed. "I promise we'll go slow."  
  
Marco nodded again. "No, yeah - it's fine. I've... actually been wanting to have you do that for a really long time, so..." It was Marco's turn again to be embarrassed, but Jean squeezed his arms and pulled Marco tighter against him, nosing against his neck affectionately.   
  
"Then tonight's gonna be good, yeah?"  
  
Marco smiled and let his head drop back onto Jean's shoulder. "I think so." He reached for the bottle of lube lying on the bed beside them, and handed back over his shoulder to Jean. "Good thing you have this."  
  
"I come prepared," Jean smirked. Marco rolled his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, well. Looks like that bottle's already seen some action."  
  
"Hey, shut up. You haven't lived 'til you've jacked off with that stuff, okay?"  
  
"Duly noted," Marco laughed. "Sounds like it'd be messy, though."  
  
"Jackin' off is always messy. Might as well make it good." There was more snorting laughter, and then there was silence as Jean popped the lid open on the bottle, slicking his fingers while Marco settled his legs apart. Jean smoothed his dry hand over Marco's hips to steady him, the weight of the moment settling over him.  
  
"We'll go at your speed, okay?" He assured Marco one last time before circling slicked fingers at his entrance, watching the way it made him tense and shiver. When that tension began to melt into shaky need - Marco pressing himself back against Jean's hand - Jean slipped a single finger inside, twisting deeper, slowly.  
  
There was nothing from Marco for a moment, and then a whining, breathy, "Oh -  _ oh god." _   
  
Jean froze, searching for any hint of how Marco was feeling. "What? Is it - are you--"  
  
"It's really good," Marco gasped. "Like  _ really _ fucking good -  _ god, _ Jean. More, please."  
  
The stuttered moan Marco punctuated his sentence with emboldened Jean. He hooked his finger with more purpose, his movements more deliberate as he slipped in a second and watched Marco come unglued under him.  
  
"S'at good?" He urged, searching for a spot that would make Marco lose it entirely. He twisted his fingers and worked him open, trying not to show how Marco's noisy unraveling was undoing him as well. "You like that, baby?"   
  
"Yes, _ yesyesyes _ \- feel so full, and  _ fuck, _ it's good." He clawed at the sheets below him, grabbing a fistful in each hand, another low moan escaping him as Jean slowly worked in a third finger.  
  
"Full already?" Jean teased, bending down to mouth along Marco's beautifully arched back. "How're you gonna handle my dick?"  
  
Marco shook his head, half delirious. "I dunno, but I want it. Want it Jean, please."  
  
Haze settled back over Jean's mind as he looked down at Marco, already disheveled and desperate and so _ ready. _ It was exactly what Jean wanted - and more than he could handle. It was like he couldn't reconcile the fact that his sweet, beautiful Marco could also be so searingly sexual, despite the fact that he'd been on the receiving end of Marco's thirst more times than he could count. But this was different - this was  _ bigger,  _ more intimate than anything they'd done before, and Marco  _ wanted _ it, with him. He didn't realize he'd stilled completely, pulled his hands out of and away from Marco while he wandered through his thoughts, until he heard a voice pulling him back to the moment.  
  
"Y-you alright?" Marco asked, eying him anxiously. He flopped down onto his back, tugging a blanket up to cover himself slightly. Jean nodded slowly.  
  
"Just nervous, I guess. I just wanna make you feel good." He dragged an open palm down Marco's chest, his hip, his thigh, pushing the blanket away again. Marco caught his wrist to press a kiss into his hand.  
  
"Mission already accomplished, then." He reached up to scratch playfully at the scruff under Jean's chin. "Let's just try, okay? 'm ready."  
  
Jean grinned back at him, nodding away what was left of his nervousness. "Alright."  
  
Stroking himself a few times first, Jean pulled a condom from the box and tore open the packet, aware of Marco's eyes on him as he rolled it on. He slicked more lubricant over it, trying his best to look back at Marco with confidence as he did. It seemed to work; Marco smiled, slowly rolling back up onto his knees and running hands down Jean's thighs as they lined themselves up. Jean let his lips linger at the back of Marco's neck for a long moment before pressing the head of his cock against his slicked entrance. He mumbled a warning as he gently bent Marco forward, pushing into him slowly, carefully.   
  
Jean rasped a strangled breath. It was  _ incredible, _ even before he could sink further into him than a few bare inches. Marco was hot and tight and  _ perfect, _ and Jean could've easily lost himself right there, pounded into him that way his body was already aching to. But he wouldn't; he slowed to a halt, waiting for Marco's approval. "Talk to me, baby," he murmured against sweat slicked skin, but Marco was silent. "Baby?  _ Marco?" _   
  
_ "Holy shit,"  _ Marco breathed, panting into the fist full of blankets he held by his face. "You're... so  _ big, _ Jean."  
  
Jean whimpered, body and mind railing against each other as he tried to focus on something other than how good it felt to hear Marco, already breathless for him. "You okay, though? We can stop, if you--"  
  
_ "Don't!" _ Marco snapped, grinding his ass back against Jean's hips. "Don't stop – feel so good inside me – please don't.”  
  
Jean nodded, rocked slowly into him, a little more each time until he bottomed out completely, and his groan matched Marco's at the insanely perfect feel of it. "God, Marco -  _ you _ feel good. You have no idea - so fucking hot, so  _ tight _ \- never had anything this good." He willed himself to push back, just enough that he could look at Marco, and knew the moment he did that he'd be glad for it later. "And you look fucking  _ amazing, _ baby. Wanna remember you like this for fucking  _ ever." _   
  
Marco whined, circling his hips and scrambling for purchase in the shifting sheets. "Jean - need you to move, okay?"  
  
"Mhm," was all Jean could manage, breath hitched as he tried to keep his movements steady and slow.  
  
Marco wasn't much help. He squirmed beneath Jean, loud, broken moans falling from his lips. "Jean, it's so g-good. Your cock is s-so damn  _ good." _   
  
It was an experience outside of consciousness; Jean could barely process everything as sensation flooded him from every angle. Feeling Marco, clenching perfectly around him as he wriggled and panted pleas for  _ 'more, baby, please, that, just like that' _ set his head spinning, and the flame in his chest crackled with new heat as he chanted praises in response.   
  
"S'it good, baby? This what you've been thinkin' about? Sprawled out on my bed in nothing but my blankets, takin' my dick like you were made for it? God, you're perfect, you know that? Look so fucking perfect - feel so good – God, I lo--  _ ahh, Marco!" _   
  
Marco was squeezing around him with every thrust, meeting him nearly move for move. "Harder, baby - I can take it - I need it, please." His voice was hoarse and ragged, and Jean wasn't sure he'd ever seen him so far gone, but knowing  _ he _ was the one who got him there was intoxicating. He reeled along with him as Marco screamed, "There, oh g-god, Jean -  _ right there!" _   
  
Jean kept a steady pace, as forgiving as he could manage despite Marco's begging. He didn't want to hurt Marco, but he was more than happy to aim for those angles that made Marco whimper, to bite down on his shoulder when Marco tossed his head back to moan and to tell him how gorgeous he was. It wasn't quite lovemaking, but it was better than any  _ sex _ Jean had ever experienced. Marco rolling his hips back against Jean's at every deep thrust was dizzying, but it was the way Marco tenderly laced their fingers that had Jean losing his rhythm, nearing his edge.   
  
"Marco - 'm close, babe. Can't... keep..."  
  
Marco whimpered in response, pleading, "C-can I touch myself?"   
  
"Yes, baby -  _ please, _ need you to come with me."  
  
The bed shook from the trembling of their arms and legs, both trying not to collapse as Marco reached down to jerk at himself roughly. It only took a few messy strokes - Jean could  _ hear _ the slickness Marco's hand was sliding through - and then Marco was crying out, a shattered chorus of swears and slurs of Jean's name. He shivered violently, impossibly tight around Jean as he came, and Jean could do nothing but close his eyes and try to keep moving. But it was too much; he locked an arm tight around Marco's waist and held him, tumbling over the edge after him and sinking teeth into his shoulder, determined not to let  _ this _ be the moment he screamed  _ 'I love you'. _   
  
Riding out their orgasms together, Jean clung to Marco until neither of them could do anything but collapse together, sideways into the blankets piled around them. He was barely cognizant of pulling out of Marco, tossing the condom in the general direction of his trash can and dropping back down onto the bed. For a long moment, everything was distant and there was nothing but warmth, nothing but the love bursting to escape from him as he wrapped it tighter, waiting for another, better time to pour it out.   
  
The whistling of the wind outside finally began to reappear in the corners of Jean's consciousness as his senses returned, though everything was still in filtered focus. He made an effort not to think about how much he wanted to nap, how relaxed his entire body was for the first time in... probably his entire life. Instead he fumbled for Marco's hands, clasping one of them in his and trailing the other softly down his side, watching Marco's face intently.   
  
"Are you alright, baby?" He asked, and the tenderness of his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. But he  _ meant _ for it to be there, didn't care if he sounded silly, lavishing Marco with affection. It came close to being what he  _ really _ wanted to say, without the risk of pushing Marco away, and in that moment, it was enough.   
  
Marco smiled blearily back at him. "That was... not at all what I expected, honestly."  
  
"Good way or bad?"  
  
_ "Best _ way," Marco grinned. He laid an arm heavily across Jean's chest, splaying his fingers across the flushed, sweat damp skin there and swirling looping patterns in coarse, sparse hair. "You were incredible."  
  
Jean smirked. "Says you. Clearly you couldn't see yourself.  _ You're  _ incredible."  
  
"Mm. Why don't we take an incredible nap?" Marco yawned and stretched, dragging blunt nails gently back across Jean's chest as he did, and Jean couldn't stifle a yawn of his own.   
  
"Did I tire you out?" He snorted, after he'd caught his breath. Marco rolled his eyes in response and poked his side.  
  
"Like you're not? I saw you yawning."  
  
Jean rolled over to sit up on his knees, crawling closer to Marco. "Easy, babe. Not like I'm gonna turn down a chance to pass out on top of you."  
  
Marco grinned and reached down to wrap hands over Jean's hips, pulling him up and onto him before looping arms tightly around his waist.  
  
"Good. Stay here."  
  
"Will do." Jean yawned again, and let the sound of their steady breathing and the wind outside lull him into the deepest, most peaceful sleep he'd ever had.  
  
\--  
  
Jean slept the rest of the evening, waking late the next day to find his bed empty. He fumbled in the soft light of late morning, hand searching for Marco but finding no one. Rolling onto his back, he rubbed his eyes and stretched, listening. The rustling was coming from the kitchen, and he smiled, reassured that Marco must still be there. He might've crawled out of bed to investigate, but his room was frigid and he was still completely naked; Marco would surely come back soon anyway.   
  
Burrowing back into his blankets, he rolled up on one side, peering out of his linen nest at the rattling, frosted window. In the thin film of frost on its surface, something was scratched - written. He squinted to see it more clearly, and couldn't stop the wide grin the burst across his face.  
  
_ 'I love you, Jean.'  _

  
He grabbed his discarded pants from the floor and pulled them on, prying himself out of the warmth of his bed, with a mind for heading to the kitchen, knowing it would just as warm there, if not more so. The chill of the day had preserved the window art beautifully, but he snapped a picture on his phone, just in case the sun decided to show up later. Jean had never been much of a breakfast person, but fingers laced with Marco's - and conversation laced with the three words he'd been aching to hear and to say - he decided it was something worth getting out of bed for.   
  
  



End file.
